


Model Behaviour - Flourish

by MagiCraft



Series: Ouroboros [2]
Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M, Slightly DoMJ, Unrequited Love, smut with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-04 18:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11560530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagiCraft/pseuds/MagiCraft
Summary: Jun does not mind modelling for Ohno, but making him work late is a whole other matter. Of course, if you make the man give up his private time, he will simply have to make the most of it.





	Model Behaviour - Flourish

**Author's Note:**

> Written Circa 2009/2010

Matsumoto Jun stalked into the makeshift art studio. It was late and he had hoped Arashi’s leader would wait until the following morning before continuing his art project. As it was, Matsumoto had been summoned by a nervous PA at a time normal people would have been leaving for home. Really, he had been  _summoned_  like a common lackey.   
  
He was  _not_  pleased.   
  
He was well aware that he had promised to model for Ohno along with the other members, but he did not enjoy the idea of sacrificing his own private time in the process. Jun had been looking forward to going home early before Arashi’s leader and named him last in line to model for the picture.   
  
It was not that Jun was uncomfortable with the idea of modelling; it was not that different from a photo-shoot. It simply took much longer, which he did  _not_  appreciate at nine-thirty at night. He did have work in the morning, after all. He briefly considered using that very reason to postpone his obligation, but he knew it would not hold. Ohno had work in the morning too, and Matsumoto did not want to been seen to lose to the older man.   
  
He spotted the sleepy-eyed artist beckoning him over from across the room, looking far more animated than Matsumoto thought possible. “What is it?” He asked sharply as he made his way to the table where his colleague was working.   
  
“Look.” He indicated a small sheaf of completed sketches; the other members’ final poses.   
  
The young man cast a dispassionate eye over the work. Arching an eye-brow Jun turned to Ohno, mildly surprised at the expectant expression on his face. “And?”   
  
The smaller mans smile slipped slightly. “Don’t you think they’re kind of cool?” He asked, briefly resembling a hurt puppy.   
  
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, they’re not finished right?” He pointed out reasonably. “I can’t tell yet.”   
  
“I see…”   
  
Ohno had begun to gather his supplies when a question occurred to Jun. “Um, Leader, if these pictures are unfinished, are we supposed to model more than once?” The idea apparently held little appeal for the man.   
  
Ohno Satoshi paused briefly, as if the question required every ounce of his energy to answer. “No.” He replied slowly. He nodded his head towards a small pile of Polaroid’s that Matsumoto had previously overlooked. “I’ll use the photos to finish them.”   
  
The taller man was momentarily speechless. With deliberate patience, as if talking to a child he replied: “Ohno-san, why don’t you just use the photos for all of it?” He sank into the fold out chair that the older man had vacated a few moments before while he waited for an answer.   
  
“Didn’t want to.” He explained as he leant over the table to study the photographs.   
  
Matsumoto rubbed his brow, warding off an impending headache. “Why not?” He asked tightly. Somehow, he guessed Ohno’s reason would only make his headache worse. Perhaps he had a masochistic streak in him after all.   
  
“You guys wanted me to do it.” A note of accusation was evident in his tone. “I was going to fish. You promised to model for me.” An impish smile graced his features a moment before he plopped himself down, sitting across Matsumoto’s lap. Ohno put an arm around Jun’s shoulder to steady himself as he added: “That’s why you have to do it  _properly_.”   
  
The young man sighed, his free hand holding the smaller man at the knee to keep him from falling with the movement. As much as he hated to admit it, Ohno did have a valid point. The other members, himself included, had manipulated their leader into agreeing to the task with the promise of themselves as live models. Satoshi was actually letting them fulfil their obligation with the bare minimum of effort.   
  
“Alright, I get it.” He stood quickly, deliberately displacing the man on his lap and causing him to scramble to his feet. He might understand Ohno’s reasons, but he was not going to let the smaller man completely off the hook for forcing him to work late.   
  
He walked a few paces from the table and spun to face the artist. “I just have to do the M pose, right?”   
  
“Eh? Ah, yeah…” Ohno quickly grabbed the camera and waited for Jun to assume the pose. “I kind of want to go home though….” He mumbled to himself, his tone a touch to low to be heard normally.   
  
“What was that?” Jun stood with his feet a little more than shoulder length apart, bent slightly at the waist with his hands together between his legs. It was a pose famously used by female models trying to appear sexy, and a pose the young man affected easily with an air of calm composure.   
  
“Oh, that’s good!” The older man exclaimed. He ignored Matsumoto’s question and lifted the camera to peer through the lens. “Now, don’t move.” He instructed. The reluctant model did as he was told and the shutter closed, capturing the moment.   
  
As the photograph slid from the camera Ohno watched as it developed. “This is cool.” He asserted. “Kind of… not sexy, sexy.”   
  
“What?” Matsumoto broke his pose and advanced towards his leader. “That doesn’t make any sense. Let me look.” He took the picture from Ohno’s hand and studied the Polaroid.   
  
Satoshi leaned over his arm to point at the photograph smugly. “See.” He said, pointing at the photographic form of the younger man. “It’s not sexy, but sexy.”   
  
Matsumoto nodded uncertainly. “I kind of understand what you mean.” He conceded. “I understand it. But the way you said it makes you sound like Aiba-chan.”   
  
“Ah, really?” The man did not seem overly concerned by the comparison. However, a breath later, he seemed to realise something was amiss. “Huh? Matsujun?”   
  
“Yeah?”   
  
“You’re here.”   
  
The young man’s face expressed his puzzlement. “Well, obviously.” He replied, wondering what exactly Arashi’s leader meant.   
  
“But…. You’re beside me.” He clarified, not really clarifying anything at all.   
  
“What are you talking about, Ohno-san? Is something wrong?”   
  
“You’re my model.” He explained slowly. Jun waited silently for the man to continue, and nearly choked when the man finished with: “You’re supposed to be over there. You’re not supposed to move.”   
  
“Oh! Leader, I’m sorry.” He apologised quickly. He made to return his place but Ohno stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged off Matsumoto’s mistake and his attempt to correct it. “This is good enough.” He indicated the photograph that the younger man still held. “Just don’t tell the others, OK?”   
  
Matsumoto suddenly felt guilty. He hated to make mistakes, he hated more that the other man was going easy on him for it. “But-”   
  
“My hand hurts anyway.”   
  
Realisation dawned on the young perfectionist. “Wait a minute.” He fixed the shorter man with a piercing stare, fighting to keep his expression bland. “The truth is, you’re the one who wants to stop, right?”   
  
“Well….”   
  
“Well?  _Well?_ ” Jun repeated disbelievingly. “Why were you trying to make me feel responsible?”   
  
The older man wore his best innocent expression. “You  _did_  move.” He pouted.   
  
And with that, the young man could no longer feign anger. Finally freeing the grin that had threatened to ruin his performance since Ohno had first mentioned that he wanted to go home, Matsumoto laughed.   
  
He threw his arm around the smaller man and teasingly tickled the man at the waist. Ohno squirmed and tried in vain to push his tormenter away. Matsumoto had other ideas, however. He brought a sudden end to any resistance by embracing the other man completely.   
  
The artist continued to laugh against the young mans neck as Jun began to move backwards, pulling Ohno with him. His laughter trailed off, nonetheless, when Matsumoto lowered them both into the empty chair at the table.   
  
The young man knew what he was doing. He had known for a long time exactly where his interest lay, but had never before had the courage or the opportunity to express it. Now, alone with Arashi’s diminutive leader without the possibility of interruption, Jun knew he would never get a better chance.   
  
Besides, he had been forced to stay late and give up his private time for this. He deserved to be compensated.   
  
He settled the smaller man across his lap, imitating the position Ohno had willing occupied earlier. Jun held the man in place with one hand at his hip and the other rested high upon his thigh. “Leader…. Ohno-san.” He had only spoken his name but the words were filled with deeper meaning.   
  
Satoshi drew back to look the young man in the eye. Even he could not fail to read the mood that permeated the air. The atmosphere was laden with unspoken understanding and stretched tensions. Jun sometimes had to work hard in order to be friends with the eldest member, if only because his most private thoughts of the man were definitely  _more_  than that of a friend. And so he had long since accepted that his feelings would mot be reciprocated and had battled his baser desires for years.   
  
Now, Matsumoto decided to give up the fight. He knew he risked spoiling a relationship that he had protected nearly a decade, but he no longer had the strength to restrain himself. The moment was already upon him, if he did not see it through, only regret would remain.   
  
Jun studied the face of his leader closely, trying to divine the older males’ state of mind. His eyes were wide, and his adams-apple bobbed uneasily at his throat, but he made no move to free himself. Indeed, behind his eyes, fear warred with curiosity. But there was no confusion; he knew precisely what was happening.   
  
Breaking eye contact, Ohno looked away and gave an almost imperceptible shrug. Matsumoto understood the tacit consent of the gesture. Sliding his hand along the solid length of Satoshi’s outer thigh, Jun pressed the man further into his lap.   
  
He released the hand at Ohno’s hip to slip it under the older mans tee-shirt and feel the skin of his back. Ohno, his arms draped around the tall mans shoulders, arched backwards, tightening his embrace in the process.   
  
Tracing the line of the artists back with slender fingers, Matsumoto pulled away slightly. “Ohno-san, let go.” He commanded gently.   
  
The older man let go as if stung. He would have pulled away completely if Jun had not held him in place with the hand at his back. Matsumoto did not see the look of hurt his friend wore. He was occupied with removing the tee-shirt the man wore instead. And the look was gone by the time the material fell to the floor.   
  
Jun fixed his gaze upon the expanse of tanned skin before him and felt the shudder that ran down Ohno’s spine in response. The smaller man squirmed against him as Jun leant down to press his lips to the exposed chest. He could feel the others’ eyes upon him as he took one taut nipple into his mouth.   
  
Satoshi’s sharp intake of breath at this action became a breathy groan as the young man laved the sensitive flesh with his tongue. He brought his hand around and used it to good effect upon the nipple that was not currently with the hot well of his mouth. He suckled gently, at first, savouring the light salty taste of Ohno’s smooth skin. But as the smaller man rocked in his lap, rubbing a particularly intimate spot, his restraint began to falter.   
  
Matsumoto attempted to hold the man steady with a firm hand upon his thigh, but Satoshi possessed surprising strength and continued his unconscious movements regardless. Struggling with his self-control Jun drew away from the sculpted chest and raised to eyes to look at his partner.   
  
Ohno’s gaze was fixed upon him. His eyes were speculative and dark with need. His soft, full lips parted slightly as he drew short, shuddering breaths. As Matsumoto watched, Ohno nervously slid his tongue along his bottom lip and smiled timorously.   
  
It was enough to send a bolt of desire through the younger man and stretch his control to its limit. Biting down on low growl from the back of his throat, Jun reached for the man. He claimed the invitingly open mouth with his own and ran his own tongue over the tongue that had so tempted him.   
  
Hungrily, he swallowed the moans of his leader and offered some groans of his own. Even lost in the thrill of the kiss, Jun became aware of the older mans excited condition. Ohno whimpered against his mouth when Jun caressed the man in his lap. He stroked the growing bulge of the older man through his jeans and nearly snapped when Satoshi pressed into his hand. With quick, sure movements, Matsumoto unbuttoned Ohno’s jeans and slowly unzipped his fly.   
  
He hesitated, giving the older man an opportunity object. But Ohno did not balk. He had given himself up to reason and surrendered himself completely to Jun’s capable ministrations. The older man bucked impatiently against him, tangling slender fingers in his hair and sighing soft into his mouth.   
  
Emboldened by the actions of a willing partner, Matsumoto slipped beneath the waistband of Ohno’s boxers and found hot flesh, smooth and hard at his touch. Jun took the man in hand, and the responding shudder nearly unseated them both.   
  
The older man broke the kiss. His back arched with each small, insistent thrust of his hips, his head thrown back in pleasure. Each stroke of Matsumoto’s sure hand punctuated with a gasping breath torn from the older mans throat.   
  
Jun revelled in the sensation. He never got tired of this feeling of control; the knowledge that he had the power to bring a person to their knees and make them beg for release. But what he felt now went beyond anything he had felt before. This was his leader, the man he had admired for nearly ten years.   
  
Ohno had been the man who had ignited the first spark of lust within him as an adolescent. He had doused the flames of that heat with many partners over the years, but his desire for the sleepy-eyed singer had only burned brighter. And now, with the heat between them finally shared, Matsumoto basked in it.   
  
He wanted to make it last, to draw out the moment for eternity. Yet he knew he could not; Ohno represented everything that was irresistible to him. Jun’s famous self-control did not stand a chance in the face of all he had ever desired.   
  
As he brought the older male to a fevered peak and his own blood boiled in his veins, Matsumoto fought for control. With long deliberate stokes he sent Satoshi over the edge. Spasms of pleasure racked through the man as he came in waves of ecstasy. His breath caught in his throat, silencing his cries as Jun pulled every last sensation from the man.   
  
Finally, a short eternity later, Ohno fell back to earth. Exhausted and spent he fell deeper into the cradle of Jun’s lap. He buried his face in Matsumoto’s shoulder, his breaths tremulous and hot against his neck.   
  
As the young man took back his hand, sticky and warm with fluid, Ohno trembled. A small, almost hysterical bark of self-conscious laughter escaped his lips. He mumbled something that might have been an apology, but Jun did not hear. The young man was only aware of the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.   
  
“Matsujun…?”   
  
At last, the small, sleepy voice reached the younger man. He swallowed and cleared his throat, desperately trying to sound normal. “Uh, yeah?”   
  
Ohno recovered his strength and sat up. “Are you OK?”   
  
Matsumoto blinked in surprise. Why was the man asking if  _he_  was alright? Jun had just fulfilled a ten-year fantasy; he had never felt better. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied as easily as he could.   
  
“Oh, alright then.” With that, the older man got quickly to his feet and straightened himself up. Jun firmly stamped down upon the feeling of loss. Fixing his jeans and throwing his tee-shirt over his shoulder, Ohno regarded the seated man. “Want to go home?” He asked. “I can finish the pictures tomorrow.”   
  
“Uh, you go ahead.” He insisted. Jun was not yet ready to take to his own feet; he doubted his knees would support him as far as the door.   
  
“But-”   
  
Matsumoto waved away his objections “It’s fine Ohno-san. Go ahead.” The young man needed some time alone to take care of his own rather pressing matters, anyway. He was under no illusions as to what had transpired between them. He had lusted after the older man from the moment they had met, but Ohno had no such attachment to him.   
  
To Arashi’s leader, Jun was just a trusted friend who had gotten him off. And he had allowed it because, well, because there was not much Ohno would not try at least once. One intimate encounter did not a relationship make, he reminded himself.   
  
The artist shrugged. “You’re sure?”   
  
Jun nodded. “Completely.” He had just had a once in a lifetime experience, he knew. Ohno would not suddenly develop an overwhelming inertest in men – in  _him_  – just because Jun had given the man an earth-shattering orgasm. But now, he wanted the man to leave him alone while the heat of the moment still lingered. At least then, for a few moments more, he could imagine that his leader was with him completely.   
  
“Well, OK then.” Ohno headed towards the door. “But I owe you one.”   
  
“Huh?”   
  
“I mean,” Satoshi continued as he slipped out of the room. “I’ll pay you back next time.”   
  
Matsumoto starred blankly as the door closed behind the smaller man. Surely he had not meant what Jun thought? Had he? Jun could barely dare to hope. Everything he thought he knew about the man told him that he had understood perfectly: Ohno had been willing to pay him back in kind. Was still willing to, in fact.   
  
A slow smile broke across his features as he slid, further into his seat, boneless. Happy disbelief coloured his tone at the single word he spoke to the empty room:   
  
“ _Damn_ …”   
  
  
  
 _End._  


End file.
